The Other Potter
by NoraJones
Summary: Harry's lost it all - his family, his friends, his life. What happens when during the Battle of Hogwarts, he finds himself being thrust 20 years into the past? Will he have the opportunity to change it all? Will he want to? Will he ever find his way back to his own time? Rated T for now. Pairings not decided yet. Disclaimer in first chapter.


**Disclaimer: ** I do not own Harry Potter. Everything in this story belongs to J.K. Rowling, unless it is something unfamiliar, which may be of my own creation. No copyright infringement intended.

**Rating: **T rating.

**Chapter One:  
****Date: Sunday 4****th**** September 1977.  
Words: 3742.**

He lay on the cold, hard earth, barely conscious of his surroundings.  
He could feel the damp mud and the crunchy twigs ground into his hands and up his fingernails.  
He was engulfed in the smell of the moss on the trees and the damp leaves that lay on the ground below him.  
He could hear the tweets of birds in the sky, the branches on the trees swaying in the wind and…whispering?

"You don't think he's dead, do you?" a high pitched, panicked voice squeaked.  
"Dunno mate," came a second voice. He didn't seem at all fazed by the unconscious boy on the floor in front of them. "He looks pretty battered."

The voices stopped and the boy on the floor tried to focus. His head was pounding and it felt as though the earth below him was moving, like he was on a boat.  
The boy then heard shuffling of leaves and breaking of twigs and he began to panic slightly.

"What are you doing?" a third voice asked.  
"What does it look like? I'm poking him with a stick!" a fourth voice said it as though it was the most obvious thing in world.  
"Let's not," said the third voice, a disapproving tone in his voice.  
"But what if he's contaminated?" the fourth voice whined.

Someone sighed.  
Seconds later the boy on the ground felt a soft tap on his shoulder.  
"Um, excuse me?"  
Instinct kicked in and his eyes shot open.

The boy let out a startled gasp when he saw a face mere inches away from his.  
Because his eyes had shot open so suddenly, he'd frightened the boy leaning over him so much that he had toppled backwards.  
"Merlin!" the mousy blond haired boy said, holding his chest.

The boy, who was lying on the ground, lets his eyes dart around him, taking in his surroundings.  
He was in some sort of a forest, as there was towering trees all around him. He didn't remember how he got here. The last thing he could remember was being in mid battle in the Entrance Hall of Hogwarts.

Lord Voldemort had been chasing him, shooting curses left right and centre. His friends were dead, everyone was dead. The castle was ruined, rubble littered the floor, amongst it lay bodies of students, staff and death eaters.

Now he was in some kind of forest, with four boys stood over him, gazing down at him curiously.

The boy who had been crouched over him was now stood up. He had mousy blond hair, with a choir boy style, hazel eyes and a very gaunt look about him; he looked as though he had been ill for weeks. Though that didn't explain the bruises and cuts that littered his pale face.

The boy holding the stick was rather short – he had shoulder length, shaggy black hair, a huge grin on his face, and sparkling grey eyes.  
His uniform was un-tucked and un-kept, and he was covered in mud and gunk.

Then there was a small boy with a podgy round face. He had blond hair and a very rat like face. He didn't look as though he fitted in with the other three at all. He had a very nervous appearance, whereas the other three oozed confidence.

Lastly stood a very tall, gangly boy. His messy black hair, that stood up on, end screamed arrogance, as did the sparkle in his dark brown eyes and the broad smirk on his face.  
He wore round glasses that were slightly lopsided on his face, and he, like the boy holding the stick, had a very messy way about him.

As the boy on the ground took in the other boys appearances, he felt the air leave his lungs and he felt as though he'd been chucked in a huge pool of frozen water. This had to be a dream. It couldn't possibly be real. It was too bizarre, even for him.

"Are you alright mate? You look like you've seen a ghost," said the boy with glasses, grinning down at him.  
"And not a very pleasant one, either," came the boy with shaggy hairs response.

The boy on the ground couldn't respond – as hard as he tried, the only sounds that came out of his agape mouth was gasps.  
"Maybe he doesn't speak English? He looks kind of foreign to me," said the podgy looking boy, peering down at the boy on the ground nervously.

"Wonderful idea Petey. Bonjour!" said the shaggy haired boy.  
"Guten tag!"  
"Konnichi wa!"  
"Does he really look Japanese to you?"

The shaggy haired boy shrugged while the sandy haired boy rolled his eyes.  
"Um ok. What about Buenos dias?"

When the boy on the ground didn't say anything, they huffed.  
"Well I don't bloody know then. We've run out of languages to say hello in!"  
"Maybe he speaks gobbledegook? Or Troll?" said the boy with glasses. He then started making some grunting noises, much to the amusement of his friends.  
"Um. I'm English," the boy finally managed to croak out.  
"You couldn't have said that five languages ago?" said the boy with glasses.

The boy on the ground gave a little shrugged, but stopped when he felt a searing pain shoot up his side.  
He hissed, feeling extremely nauseas.  
"I guess I wanted to see how far you'd get," he said through clenched teeth.

The four boys looked at each other, worry etched onto their faces.  
The boy on the floor put his bloody elbows onto the earth in order to prop himself up.  
When he finally managed to rest against a tree, he started coughing.  
His whole insides felt like they were on fire, and when he removed the hand he'd been coughing into it was covered in blood.

"Ah, that's never a good sign," he muttered, using the tree behind him to pull himself up.  
"You ok? Only you look like you've been run over by a herd of hippogriffs," the sandy haired boy said, worried.  
The boy took in a deep, shaky breath. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the pain that was coming from his side.

"I'm fine. Just a little cut up I guess. Listen, I don't suppose you could tell me where I am?"  
He already had a hunch, and he was hoping to god that he was wrong.  
"You, kind sir, are in the forbidden forest," the shaggy haired kid grinned.  
Hunch confirmed.  
"Brilliant. Who's the headmaster?"  
He already knew the answer to his own question – it was stupid of him to ask.

"That would be Professor Dumbledore," the boy that was called Petey smiled.  
The boy felt his blood boil whenever he looked at the watery eyed kid.  
"I need to see him."

Without another word, he began walking forward. Though he didn't get very far – a few paces away from the tree he stumbled forward and fell to his knees. The trees around him were spinning and he felt the bile rise up his throat.

"Come on, let's get you to the hospital wing."  
As much as the boy protested, he felt himself being levitated anyway and by the time they'd reached the edge of the forest, the world turned black and he was once again unconscious.

"- you say you found him in the forbidden forest?" a distant, yet familiar voice filled his ears.  
"That's right, Professor. Just lying there, looking like he'd had a run in with a mountain troll and lost."  
"I see. Thank you for informing me, please return to your dormitories."  
"But Professor –"whined the voice.  
"Now, Mr Black," the other voice chuckled. "Or I'll have to reconsider giving you detention for being in the Forbidden Forest."

The boy heard a door open before closing shortly after. He was sure that the boys that had found him were listening with their ears pressed to the doors right about now.  
Feeling the crisp sheets beneath him, he'd established that he was, in fact, in Hogwarts infirmary, being tended to by Madam Pomfrey, the school medi-witch.

"I daresay you can stop pretending to be asleep now," the voice chuckled once more.  
The boys eyes opened slowly, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling when he saw his old headmasters face inches away from his own.  
Though Professor Dumbledore was considerably younger, it was still him. He was alive, still smiling, with that knowing sparkle in his blue eyes.

"Professor!" the boy breathed happily.  
"I take it, by your warm response that you in fact, know who I am?"  
The boy nodded.  
"Professor Dumbledore, the best headmaster Hogwarts has ever seen!"

Dumbledore blushed and let out a small chuckle.  
"Oh, you flatter me," the headmaster smiled. "Now, you know who I am, but I am afraid that I do not know you."  
The boy sat up slightly, and winced when his side prickled. It seemed that Madam Pomfrey hadn't completely healed him yet.  
"Oh yes, that will hurt for quite some time, unfortunately. It seems you were hit by quite a dark curse," Dumbledore informed him, looking over his half-moon spectacles.

The boy sighed and muttered something that sounded like "Why am I not surprised?"  
"My name is Harry Potter," he said slowly, looking at Dumbledore's face, trying to gather what his reaction was.  
"Potter you say?" Dumbledore said curiously, his eyes drifting towards the doors of the infirmary. "Are you, by any chance, a relation of James Potter?"

Harry bit his lip nervously. Should he tell his old mentor? Would the elder man think he was completely insane and take him personally to St Mungos? Heck, he'd probably still be there when Gilderoy Lockhart gets checked in for permanent memory loss.

"I'm uh, I'm his son."  
Dumbledore didn't say anything, he just interlocked his fingers, placing his hands in his lap.  
He then made a humming sound, a small smile on his face.  
"From which year did you come from, my boy?"

Harry let out a relieved sigh. He should never have doubted that his old headmaster would think he was crazy.  
If anyone on the whole entire planet were to understand, it would be Dumbledore. Besides Ron and Hermione, anyway.  
At the thought of his two best friends, he suddenly felt cold. It wasn't going to be the same without them…it was his entire fault. They were gone because of him.

"1998, Professor."  
Dumbledore didn't look too taken aback. He hummed once more.  
"I see. That's remarkable. Now tell me, Harry Potter, how is it that you find yourself in the year 1977?"  
"Honestly, sir, I've got no idea. I was in the middle of the battle –"  
"Battle? But you are barely of age!" Dumbledore said, astonished.

Harry sighed.  
"How much do you want to know, Professor?"  
Dumbledore smiled brightly.  
"I think all of it should do."

Nearly half an hour later, Harry had finally finished telling his professor everything he could think of about his time. He told him about the prophecy, about Sirius, and about Voldemorts return in his fourth year, and the hunt for Horcruxes, and finally the final battle of Hogwarts.

"- and I was being chased through the Entrance Hall by Voldemort, and he was shooting every unforgivable known to mankind at me, then I see this bright, orange light…then nothing!"  
"Orange light, you say?" Dumbledore said thoughtfully.  
"Exactly. I didn't hear him say the incantation – I was too far away. Besides you could barely hear yourself think with all that was going on…"

Dumbledore didn't say anything for a while, and Harry began to panic. Surely the old man would be able to send him back? He knew everything! Plus, Harry couldn't stay here. As much as he wanted to get to know his family, to spend a few extra minutes with Remus and Sirius, he couldn't. He had to go back. He had to help!

"I must say I cannot think of anything off the top of my head. Time travel hasn't really been discovered in this time. The Unspeakable's in the Department of Mysteries have dabbled in it, so I have heard, but it's never been more than a few minutes at a time…"  
"I'm not even sure we can do it in my time, Professor. We have time turners, but as far as I know they only go back a few hours, not 20 years!"

Harry thought back to his third year when Hermione had her time turner to get to all of her lessons.  
He was sure she had mentioned something about only being able to do it so many hours at a time.  
Plus it couldn't have been a time turner, because they had all been destroyed in Harry's fifth year. He was also pretty sure he was not wearing a time turner when he'd been fighting Voldemort.

"I will have to look into it, but do not fret, my boy!" Dumbledore said when he saw Harry's panicked expression. "I will do everything in my power to return you safely to your own time."  
Harry nodded. He supposed that was all the old man could do. He may be Dumbledore, but he wasn't a miracle worker.  
"Sir, what am I to do until then? I'm not registered in this time, so I can hardly go wandering around Diagon alley, or book a room in the Leaky Cauldron," Harry said in frustration.

Dumbledore thought for a few minutes, before smiling once more.  
Harry thought that Dumbledore smiled too much.

"I have the perfect solution, Mr Potter!"

An hour later, Harry was now registered as Harry Evans in the Ministry's records, and his cover story was that he had been home-schooled his whole life, but his guardians thought it'd be best to attend Hogwarts to sit his N.E.W.T exams.  
The reason he'd been found, battered in the Forbidden Forest? Dodgy Port key.  
This was Professor Dumbledore's solution.

Harry was now stood outside the portrait of the fat lady, attempting to guess the password to get into the Gryffindor common room.  
"Um. Caput Draconis?" he guessed once more, remembering the password from one of his years at Hogwarts.  
The fat lady only sighed.

He heard a soft giggle from behind him, and spun around, startled.  
Stood behind him was a girl with long, flowing red hair, pale, glowing skin and dazzling green eyes.  
She was remarkably beautiful and very petite looking.  
"The password is Carpe Diem," she grinned.

Harry looked over his shoulder to see the portrait door swing open. He then turned back to look at the girl, who was gazing at him curiously.  
"Are you the boy that James and the others found in the forest? They said that you were nearly dead when they found you…"  
Harry could only nod.  
"Wow," she breathed, gazing off into the distance. "Imagine that. I thought they were lying, of course. Just think that the only thing they're actually honest about is something as bizarre as this!"

Harry could only laugh as he looked at the woman in front of him affectionately. This, if he was correct, was his mother.  
She had the exact same green eyes as he did, and she looked almost identical as she did in the photo's he'd been given by Hagrid in his first year.

"Oh I'm dreadfully sorry, you must thing I'm insane. Just rambling off like that, without even introducing myself properly!"  
He looked at the arm she thrust out at him and he smiled brightly.  
"I'm Lily Evans, Head Girl."  
Harry placed his hand in her and pumped it up and down.  
"Harry Evans."  
Lily beamed.  
"We have the same last name. How strange! Are you muggle born, too? I'm muggle born. I don't think Evans is a magical name at all…"

Harry's heart swelled with joy – this was his mum. He wasn't like he'd expected her to be at all. He'd always imagined her to be shy and quiet, but she was extremely excitable and talkative.  
No wonder his dad fell in love with her.

"I'm a half blood," Harry laughed.  
Lily was just about to reply, but was cut off by the fat lady huffing.  
"I'm not going to just hang about all day, you know!"  
Lily blushed and giggled.  
She muttered a quick sorry before hopping through the portrait hole, pulling Harry with her.

Harry looked about the common room, which was only half full of students. It hadn't changed at all in 20 years, apart from the music, style of clothing and haircuts. Harry never understood the 70's … he didn't get how bell bottom jeans and choir boy haircuts were considered fashionable. Though thankfully, for him, he was in the end of the 70's, so it was leaving that horrific hippy, disco stage and going onto punk rock. Now that was something he could relate to.

Lily dragged him over to the sofas which were placed in front of the roaring fireplace, and Harry registered that she was babbling about lessons and N.E.W.T's.  
"You've come at an excellent time, Harry! N.E.W.T year! Though you'll have to knuckle down so you get the grades you want. I heard you're home-schooled. Is that right? If you're ever struggling with anything, come straight to me and I'll help you out. I can also tell you where everything is and show you where the best spots are in the library for studying and –"

Lily was cut off by a blur of black, gold and red as James Potter launched himself over the back of the settee that Harry and Lily was sitting on.  
He landed on them with a thump and it made Harry almost coil in half. The searing pain in his side was back, and he saw black spots in his vision.

"Lily flower, you aren't boring the poor boy with education already, are you?" James said sweetly.  
Lily ignored him. Instead she was looking at Harry with extreme concern.  
"Harry! Are you okay?"  
"Fine," he hissed through clenched teeth, trying to get the pain under control.  
"Oh, are you still injured? James get off!"

Lily pushed the other boy off so he landed in a heap on the floor.  
James bounced up and stared down at Harry, panic stricken.  
"I'm so sorry mate! I thought Madam Pomfrey would have fixed you up by now."  
Harry waved his hand, telling James it was fine.  
"She did her best, but she said it'll take a little while for the pain to go fully."

The pain dimmed a considerable amount just as Sirius, Remus and Peter occupied the other seats.  
Harry felt almost sick when he saw Peter, and he wanted to hex him there and then.  
He also felt sick when he saw Remus and Sirius, though this was a different kind of sickness. This was out of sadness.

"Some Port Key injury, huh," Remus said, gazing at Harry curiously.  
Harry shrugged.  
"You know how unreliable they can be."

Harry didn't say anything for a few minutes, he just listened to the boys retell the story of finding Harry in the forest.  
Apparently they had been exploring and looking for hideouts and rare animals, when they'd stumbled across an unconscious body on the floor.

"At first we thought it might've been Voldemort who'd done this to you…he's killing people more frequently by the day!"  
"Prongs! Don't say his name!" Peter squeaked.  
James just rolled his eyes and ignored his friend.

"Nah, I just got a port key here from my relative's house, but it was very rushed, so it can't have gone right. Obviously," Harry said, retelling the story that Dumbledore had told him.  
"I can't believe we have a new student!" Lily exclaimed excitedly. "We never get new students."  
"Few things you've gotta watch out for… the Slytherin's, sneaky buggers they are. Also Filch! He's the squib caretaker and he hates everyone. Might as well just not turn up to History of Magic, as it's appalling. The Professor is a ghost and he's so boring…" Sirius started, but trailed off when he caught both Remus's and Lily's scolding glares.

Harry couldn't help but laugh a little at his god father's antics. Of course he would warn him about those things. Next thing he'd be warning him about Snape's greasy hair.  
Speaking of Snape, that was going to be a strange encounter, Harry thought. The last time he'd seen Snape the older man had helped him escape from a couple of Death Eaters that had cornered him in the battle. And after seeing his memories in Dumbledore's pensieve, it was going to be hard looking him in the eye. He now knew things about Snape that he doubted anyone else knew.

"Any good at Quidditch mate?" James said suddenly, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.  
The boy from the future nodded.  
"I play seeker."  
"We're having Quidditch try outs Saturday morning – I'm captain," James said.

Harry inwardly grinned. His father was captain, like he had been. He also though about how great it would feel to play Quidditch with his dad. He'd dreamt about that for a long time. He'd always felt jealous of the kids who were taught by their parents when they were growing up. Harry had just been lucky that he had flying in his blood; otherwise he'd have killed himself on that first flying lesson with Madam Hooch.

"Boys and their Quidditch," Lily rolled her eyes. "I'm going to find Alice. You five would do good to get some rest – especially you Harry. You've got a long day ahead of you tomorrow."  
With that, she stalked off to find Alice, who Harry assumed was Neville Longbottom's mother.

"I honestly have no idea what you see in that girl sometimes, Prongs," Sirius said, staring after Lily. "She's such a …such a mum!"  
Harry grinned. He was sure she'd be a marvellous mother.  
"Oh don't be horrible, Sirius. Lily is great," Remus grinned and James agreed wholeheartedly.  
"This year is the year. I can feel it. She'll finally agree to going out with me this year," James sighed.

Harry felt sorry for his dad. It must've been hard for him to be in love with the same girl for seven years, when that girl didn't even bat him an eyelid.  
Though Harry was sure James loved the chase. He liked the idea of Lily playing hard to get.  
After all, he did play the chaser position in Quidditch.


End file.
